


not quite a bullseye

by interestinggin



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asexual Clint Barton, Asexual Relationship, F/M, Internalized Acephobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:11:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5249423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interestinggin/pseuds/interestinggin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know you’ve had sex," says Kate. "I’ve picked you up after you’ve had sex. You did not get to smell that bad from watching Mel Brooks movies and a bit of casual cuddling.”</p><p>After everything they've been through, Kate finally makes the first move. Clint's more than cool with that.</p><p>It's the second move he's got a problem with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	not quite a bullseye

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for [hawkeyes squared week](http://officialhawkeyes.tumblr.com/post/99177148966/) over on the [officalhawkeyes](http://officialhawkeyes.tumblr.com) tumblr account, for the prompt _non cishet identities_.
> 
> just a note: i am not asexual; if you are and you have a problem with this story, please let me know. i will listen, and i will rectify it immediately.
> 
> this is a story about ace!clint coming out to his girlfriend and as such it contains some internalised acephobia. but it is a happy story, and it is about acceptance, and they’re gonna be okay. i promise.
> 
> there is kissing in this story. there's no other sexual content.

Kate Bishop has never been afraid of making the first move.

They’re a bottle of wine and half a pizza down when she decides to do so. She slides her hand up to his neck, strokes along his chin with her fingers, scratches him behind the ears. He grins at her, opens his arms, lets her snuggle up to his side. It’s nice; it’s peaceful. It’s a family, of one kind or another - it’s their family, at least. The dog is asleep on the floor on top of his feet and his brother is in the other room snoring away and Blazing Saddles is just drawing to a close on the TV screen. Her stomach hurts a little from laughing and he still has tear tracks of mirth on his cheeks and in this moment she loves him more than she has ever loved anyone.

“Clint,” she says, prodding him gently in the side to get his attention.

He looks down at her. “Yep?”

“This is nice.”

Clint nods and reaches for the remote; turns the TV off with a quiet  _phut_. “Yeah,” he says, stretching his arms and yawning. “Yeah, it is.”

She loves him, but he is absolutely useless at - well, at everything, but especially at taking hints.

“Clint,” she says again, as he covers his mouth with his hand. He blinks, opens his mouth to respond, and she leans up and kisses him.

He makes a soft noise of surprise, but doesn’t protest; she moves up onto her knees to reach him more easily and runs her fingers through his short hair, and he kisses her back in a languid, gentle sort of way. At one point, she surfaces for air with her lipstick smudged, and he laughs, and she bites her lip and watches his eyes darken.

When she climbs into his lap, however, everything changes.

It’s not a big change. He tenses slightly in the shoulders; his hands grip a little too tightly on her thighs, and his kissing becomes more urgent. His fingers splay like he’s holding her down, like she might disappear and he’s scared of losing hold. For a moment, Kate convinces herself that it’s just hunger, need, want. Then she realises that the hands on her hips are trembling.

“Hey,” she says, sitting back on his thighs. “You okay? Is this - is this too fast?”

Clint Barton, World’s Worst Liar, smiles and shakes his head. “What? No. We’re cool.”

“You’re shaking,” Kate says bluntly.

“Oh. What? Naw, just - just a lot of… adrenaline, y’know? Pretty girl on top of me.”

“Right.” She cocks her head, watches him try to slow his breathing with a fixed smile on his face. He leans forward to kiss her again and rubs a circle on her lower back with his fingers.

“Hey,” he says quietly, “hey, c’mere, Katie, don’t stop.”

“Do you not want to do this?” she asks, folding her arms. “‘cause if so, you need to say.”

“I - _shit_ , yeah, I want to do this. Are you not - did you not notice the kissing?”

“I don’t know, Barton,” she says exasperatedly, “because you look fucking traumatised and I wasn’t aware I was  _that_  bad. Is this the age thing? Because I’m so over being patronised by you.”

Clint’s face has gone oddly closed; a pulse is beating in the hollow of his neck and it looks strained. “You’re not bad,” he says, sounding horrified. “You’re great. You’re fantastic. I’m - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - ”

“You didn’t  _upset_  me,” Kate snaps. A feeling of embarrassment is coming over her in a wave, leaving her cheeks red as she becomes acutely aware that she is straddling a man who is looking at her like he’s terrified of her and that everything about this is going to be awkward in the morning if they don’t sort it out. She brushes her hair out of her eyes. “You’re just not being honest with me.”

He shakes his head.

“You’re not,” she says. “I know when you’re lying, Clint. I know you.”

His hand is shaking again, and that, above everything else, is what scares her. His hands never shake. A Hawkeye’s hands don’t shake. “I - don’t want to mess this up,” he says, barely audible.

She snorts. “That’s  _it_?” Kate reaches out, strokes his cheek again. “Clint, come on,” she says gently. “We managed you being  _deafened_ , I think we can handle smushing faces a bit.”

“Kate,” he says, in a strained tone, “I don’t - like - ”

He makes a noise of frustration, waves his hands in what she assumes is a sign she doesn’t know. Kate studies him, gets his attention, then carefully raises her right hand and brings her fingertips down in an arc until they’re touching her left palm. “Again,” she says carefully.

“I was swearing,” Clint says wearily. “I - Kate, I don’t - I don’t want to have sex with you.”

She feels her cheeks flush again. “Right,” she mutters. “Well. Shit. See how that’s easier? Let’s just - let’s just forget -” She goes to climb off his lap, but he catches her wrist.

“No -  _Kate_  - I like you. I do.”

“Oh, make your mind up, Barton,” she says icily.

Clint makes the frustrated movement again. She wonders if this is how it feels to be him, and be slightly at a loss, too irritated with your own lack of understanding to be able to ask for help. “I like you,” he says finally. “I don’t like sex.”

Kate blinks at him.

Then she does it some more.

“Oh,” she says.

“Wait,” she says.

“No,” she says, “I know you’ve had sex. I’ve picked you up after you’ve had sex. You did  _not_  get to smell that bad from watching Mel Brooks movies and a bit of casual cuddling.”

“I didn’t say I hadn’t had sex, Katie, I said I didn’t like it,” he says, his voice suddenly very tired, and she wonders how many times he’s had this conversation. “I - look, sometimes it’s okay, alright, sometimes I can just… I like kissing, and I like some stuff, and sometimes it goes that way and it’s easier just to… go with it. But it doesn’t do anything for me. That’s all.”

“You’re asexual,” says Kate, biting at her lip.

He shrugs. “Yeah. Maybe. If you wanna call it that. I generally don’t.”

“Well, what do you call it?”

“I don’t,” he says. His hands have stopped trembling, but they tighten a little, as if he’s in pain. “I don’t tell people. I don’t like them knowing.”

Kate reaches out and touches her fingertips to the back of his hands. She covers them with her own, folding them into fists, and moves them together until they’re crossing at the wrists. Then she pulls them apart again firmly, outstretched. _Safe._ _You’re safe_. She sees him relax a little, giving her a small, awkward smile. “So, nobody knows?” she asks quietly.

He shrugs. “A few. Bobbi knows. Hard to be married without knowing it, I guess. Natasha. Barney suspects, I think, but I ain’t ever told him. I try to avoid conversations like that with my brother. He might tell me he’s had sex. I don’t tell girls. I don’t - I didn’t tell Jess, I - ”

“You have a lot of sex,” says Kate sceptically. He looks a little offended. “No, I - shit, I’m messing this up - I’m not saying I don’t believe you, I’m just trying to understand…”

“It’s alright,” he says. He keeps his hands in hers, loose in her gentle grip. “I get it. It’s weird.”

“It’s not weird,” she says hotly.

“It’s a bit weird.”

“If this is weird then Billy and Teddy are weird. Are you calling my friends weird?”

“What?” Clint shakes his head. “No. Jesus. Of course not.”

“Well then. It’s not weird.”

He laughs, leans his head back to look at her and give her a big and genuine smile. “Kate Bishop, you are somethin’ else, y’know that?”

“Yeah,” she says. She lets go of his hand and lets her fingers trace slowly up his arm, bit by bit, until they reach his neck again. “Would this be alright?” she says quietly. She strokes the back of his neck with her fingers. “Do you like this?”

He nods uncertainly. “You don’t have to,” he starts.

“I know I don’t,” she says over the top of him. “I don’t  _have_  to do anything. Nor do you. But I like you, and I like kissing you, and I like cuddling with you, and I like doing this. Do you?”

Slowly, the smile creeping back across his face, Clint nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I like doing this.”

“Okay then, Hawkeye’s boyfriend,” she says. 

His eyes widen. He laughs and wraps his arms around her waist.

She grins.

“What  _else_  do you like to do?”


End file.
